Ghosts Of Prague
by b7-kerravon
Summary: Zelenka and Sheppard disappear while doing some routine exploration of Atlantis base. Will they be found in time? Chp 9 COMPLETE!
1. Temporary Partners

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season!

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**1. Temporary Partners**

"Ow, ow, OW!! That HURTS!" Rodney McKay tried to pull his hand away, but the nurse held his wrist firmly.

"If you'll just hold still, sir..." She tried to be patient, but the incessant complaints were beginning to wear thin. The astrophysicist had burnt his right hand working on an interface between an earth-based power source and a piece of indignant Ancient technology. The burns were mostly second degree, but required daily cleaning and dressing changes to keep them from getting worse. As she finished removing the gauze, McKay hissed in pain.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad." Dr. Beckett came up to check the wounds. He nodded to the nurse, "I'll take over now." She flashed him a grateful smile and hurried off.

"Oooh, be careful. That's my dominant hand." McKay cringed as Beckett began cleaning the silvadene off with some sterile saline.

Patiently he replied, "Don't worry, I will be. I just need to get this caked-on stuff off so I can get a good look..." The last of the ointment came off and he critically inspected the hand, turning it from one side to the other while McKay anxiously watched his expression.

"So, how's it look?"

"Not too bad..." he commented. "See here? That's where new epithelial buds are beginning to grow. Your hand will have a new layer of skin in no time."

McKay, being the 'glass half empty' sort, asked, "I won't have complete use of it, will I?"

Beckett regarded him seriously. "Actually, you were lucky. Despite the severity of the burns, there is little to no third degree component, and nothing actually crosses a joint line or is circumferential." He added sternly, "You'll be fine as long as you let the nurse clean it properly every day."

McKay was unimpressed. "She's rough. You could tell her to be a little more gentle, you know."

Carson patted the tape down on the Kerlix a little too firmly himself. "She's a good nurse, and you'll be better served to cooperate with her in the future. There, done!"

Rodney grimaced, but didn't comment. As he stood to go, Beckett added, "Keep that clean, now, and don't use it unnecessarily."

"Yes, yes, I know." The scientist was frustrated; it was almost impossible to do _anything_ with his right hand in the bulky bandage.

---------------

Sheppard sighed as he picked up the next Officer Evaluation Report. One of the less pleasant tasks associated with being the ranking military officer was the mounds of paperwork you were required to do; this included being senior rater on every OER on base. The problem was that he didn't know half these men; it was hard to assess their performance. He ran his hand through his hair. _'Who the heck is Lt. Jorgensen, anyway?'_ he thought in frustration.

His ruminations were interrupted by a gentle knock on the doorframe. He routinely left his office door open so that anyone in his command would feel welcome to approach at any time with their problems. He looked up expectantly; maybe here was an excuse to postpone these OERs for a while. Dr. Zelenka stood there, looking hesitant.

"Come in, come in." Sheppard stood and came around his desk to greet the visitor. He had always liked the unpretentious scientist, and appreciated the fact that he was easily as brilliant as McKay but without the matching ego. The man appeared slightly nervous, but smiled politely. "What can I do for you today, Dr. Zelenka?" the Major inquired.

"I am sorry to bother you, Major," he began.

Sheppard gestured towards a chair. "Not at all. Have a seat."

Zelenka wrung his hands, then nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Sheppard perched on the edge of the desk opposite him. "Now, what is it?"

"You know that Dr. McKay has injured his hand?"

Sheppard chuckled. "I think he's told the whole base."

Zelenka nodded solemnly. "Most probably." He leaned forward, "He and I were scheduled to explore part of the southeast section of the complex today as part of Weir's mapping duty assignments; when I suggested that we postpone until he recovers, he _suggested_ that I simply find another partner and complete it today without him." He dropped his voice to mutter, "He does not really enjoy exploring the base; he'd much rather go through the Stargate."

Sheppard knew all too well Rodney's opinion of 'wasting his time' checking out all the nooks and crannies of the base now that it had been superficially mapped and declared safe. Weir, however, was nothing if not thorough, and insisted that every square meter of space be accounted for. As the duty often resulted in the fairly tedious measuring and diagramming of empty rooms and closets, it was a safe if not popular assignment. Weir and Sheppard tried to match up people who worked well together, and the Czech engineer was the best possible choice to pair with McKay. "So you'd like me to assign an alternate partner? I thought you and McKay got along so well."

Zelenka was quick to hold up his hands. "We do, we do. I just need a _temporary_ partner, just for this one assignment." The engineer didn't like to be a bother. He continued, "It's just that, given a choice to listening to him complain about his hand for four hours..."

Sheppard winced. He knew how that went, too. Glancing back at his incomplete paperwork, he rapidly came to a decision. "You're in luck, Doctor. It just so happens that I have nothing pressing at the moment, and would be happy to accompany you this afternoon."

Zelenka glanced at the mound of paper as well, but wisely didn't comment. He rose to shake the Major's hand. "See you outside the mess hall at one?"

Sheppard flashed his patented smirk of a grin. "I'll be there."

TBC....

AN: OK, Bastet, the opening was just for you!


	2. The Discovery

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season! (whine)

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**2. The Discovery**

The two men met as arranged, each prepared in his own way for the mini-expedition. Zelenka carried a small knapsack, a flashlight, canteen, measuring tape, and various other sundries secreted about his person. Sheppard had his LBE (load bearing equipment - a belt and suspenders harness to which numerous pieces of equipment can be attached) with many of the same items, as well as others stashed in his BDU pants and jacket.

"Well, where are we off to?" asked the Major, more for the sake of form than actual interest. While 'base exploration duty' was not high on his list of favorite activities, it beat 'filling out OERs' hands down.

The slight man whipped out a PDA from a heretofore-unseen pocket and pointed with the stylus. "This section right here, from R-54 to S-3."

Sheppard nodded, then gave a theatrical bow and gestured forward with a flourish of his hand. "Lead on, McDuff."

Zelenka shrugged, flashed a weak smile, and headed off.

The pair was soon walking quiet corridors which had been devoid of life for ten thousand years. A small red mark could be seen at intervals on the wall, made by prior exploratory parties from the base to mark the extent of their investigation. Vestiges of long-dead plants still adorned the hallways. Zelenka, consulting his handheld intermittently, finally stopped in front of one which had 'R-54' scrawled above it.

"Here. This is where Stackhouse and Markham left off three days ago."

"All right. There's a door right here. Guess it's as good a place to start as any." Sheppard put his hand to the door control, resulting in the door sliding open with a swish for the first time in ten millennia. What would be revealed? Gold? Diamonds? Super-anti-Goa'uld-weapons?

As usual, the reality was anticlimactic. It appeared to be your basic Atlantis room, complete with soaring, angled architecture and built-in automatic lighting. Most people believed them to be sleeping or living quarters for the Ancients. The pair took measurements of the chamber that Zelenka recorded on the laptop he extracted from his pack, then exited back into the hallway. The scientist turned and put a small red mark on the door, followed by his initials.

"One down, fourteen or so to go." There was certainly more exciting duties, but there were also more odious ones. Sheppard palmed open the next door, which revealed a similar compartment, as did the following three. Laser-sight dimensions were taken and plotted on Zelenka's laptop, corresponding to the map already in place. However, the sixth room was finally different, causing Sheppard to blink in surprise.

This chamber was much larger than the previous five and was vaguely rectangular in shape. Rows of tables ran the length of the chamber, with a space at the far end next to the wall. The tables were angled to lead the observer toward that space, for no readily-apparent reason. A number of partially assembled devices were scattered about the counter surfaces, in various states of disrepair.

"Oh, McKay is going to be upset that he missed this," chortled Zelenka, rubbing his hands together. His prior nervousness disappeared in his excitement.

Sheppard was confused. "Why? I'll admit that it's a change from what we've seen so far today, but what's so special?" He picked up a nearby fragment of machinery that remained inert in his hands. "It looks like a lot of scrap parts to me."

The slight Czech scientist shook his head and held up a hand without taking his eyes off the technology laid bare in front of him. "No, no, Major. Think about it. How many rooms have been found on Atlantis that were anything but pristine?"

Sheppard's brows drew together in concentration, then raised in realization. "You're right. Despite being abandoned for ten thousand years, we haven't even had to dust the place!"

Zelenka smiled as he peered about through coke-bottle glasses. "And yet..."

John was not stupid. "Here's a room with...parts...of machinery strewn all over."

The scientist nodded happily as he examined a nearby gadget. "Exactly. Best case scenario: this was a design lab where they were developing new prototypes. More likely, however, it is a repair shop for broken devices."

"That means a potential source for spare parts." Sheppard was quick to pick up on the practical aspects of their find.

"It also means that we don't have to risk disassembling working instruments to examine their component parts if we can find something similar in here." Zelenka rubbed his hands together again. "And since you and I discovered it..."

"And our report isn't due for two days..." The pilot was beginning to understand the source of the scientist's delight.

"I can work undisturbed with my team for a while before Rodney comes to take it over." Zelenka's eyes absolutely sparkled.

Sheppard was slightly confused. "I thought you liked working with him?"

The smaller man dissembled rapidly, waving both hands before him in denial. "I do, I do. It is just that he can be a little...oh, how can I say this?"

"Overbearing?" supplied Sheppard helpfully.

Zelenka pointed a finger at John's chest. "Exactly!" He flashed a conspiratorial grin, wide and bright.

John smirked; this was going to be good. "I understand completely. Let's get our assigned mapping finished so you come back and play."

"Yes, yes, of course."

-----------------

"No, no, no..." muttered Zelenka to both himself and John an hour later. He slapped the screen of his data pad with the back of his hand. "We are still off by a full meter in this direction." He gestured towards the far end of the 'lab'. The pair had first noticed the anomaly with the dimensions on their first pass, but had attributed it to another room jutting into this one, usurping space. However, upon carefully examining the surrounding regions, they discovered nothing that could account for the discrepancy. All the other chambers on their survey had proven to be more 'living quarters' of standard measurements.

"Then there has to be _something_ here. These 'Ancients' never did anything without a reason." Sheppard started feeling along the wall for any subtle differences that might indicate a hidden panel. Zelenka, nodding thoughtfully, did a similar maneuver with the floor.

"Aha!" Sheppard pried open the small hatch he had discovered, to reveal several crystals.

"Let me see." The engineer shouldered his way next to the Major. "Hmmm...it appears to be a door control. I think I can open it..." Zelenka reached for the central crystal.

"Wait a minute, doc." Sheppard laid a hand on the man's arm, halting it. "Is there any way of doing this from a little farther back? I mean, if they hid the controls, it stands to reason that they didn't want them easily found. There might be booby-traps, too."

Zelenka nodded and, slinging off his pack and dropping it to the floor, wordlessly withdrew two wires with alligator clips on both ends. Deftly connecting them first to the door and then to his handheld, he gestured at the hook-up. "There. That provides approximately four feet between us and the panel."

Sheppard still wasn't completely satisfied. "That's a good start, but why don't we stand over here, off to the side. That way, if something explodes straight out of the wall, we won't be in the line of fire."

Zelenka bobbed his head once in agreement, making his glasses slide down his nose. "Yes, of course. You are right."

The pair inched far to the left as the wires would allow. Zelenka looked at the Major in askance. "Ready?"

"Sure." Sheppard kept a firm grip on his weapon, just in case it was needed. Who knew what the Ancients might have felt needed to be kept hidden from casual observers?

"Here goes." The scientist typed in a quick command to his keyboard. A moment later, the floor beneath their feet was gone and the two men plunged into blackness.

TBC....

AN: OK, MurdocsAngel, T'Karish, Shroomy, WriterJC, Merlin71, Mirokusan, annie, SKRoberts, I'm gonna whump them both! (Merlin71, you're reading my mind!)


	3. Lost Lambs

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season! Arrghhhh...

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**3. Lost Lambs**

The trapdoor dropped them into darkness, onto a curved ramp with a sixty-degree angle. It was glass-smooth, without any purchases to slow their descent. After a distance of fifteen feet or so, the ramp opened into a shaft, into which they shot at an accelerating velocity. Plunging straight down another fifteen feet, they struck another angled, smooth ramp, totally disorienting the pair. This second slope was longer, and its angle of descent became shallower as they neared its end. However, once again the two flew into the air, this time to fall ten feet straight down. Here their unanticipated trip came to a jarring halt as they landed on a pile of metallic debris not unlike what they had found in the room above.

Sheppard groaned as he lay where he landed, catching his breath. Mentally taking stock of his position, he decided that, although seriously bumped and bruised, he had no nonsurvivable injuries immediately apparent. '_Boy, I'm going to hurt tomorrow morning.' _Grunting slightly under his breath, he managed to roll onto his knees, and from there clambered with effort to his feet. He stood swaying for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room.

The chamber he found himself in was huge, with a total of twelve angled chutes projecting from the wall. Beneath each ramp was a similar pile of discarded metallic parts. Towards the center of the room stood a circle of oversized tables upon which more recognizable bits of devices could be seen. For unknown reasons, the tabletops were approximately 6 or 7 feet above the floor, as if they were constructed to be used by giants. "It's the dump..." he murmured in realization. "Or, rather, the recycling center. They try to fix the broken stuff upstairs, and if they can't, they drop it down here. Someone then sorts through it for reusable parts..." He glanced again at the height of the tables. "Someone _really_ tall..." He was unclear as to what happened to the rest of the unusable device, but his deliberations were interrupted by a low moan nearer the pipe from which they emerged.

"Dr. Zelenka!" He carefully picked his way over to where he'd heard the sound. "Doctor! Can you hear me?" He cupped his hand to his mouth to help his voice carry.

"Uhnnhh..." came another incoherent moan, slightly to his right. He headed towards the sound and was finally rewarded with the sight of a huddle of blue and gray clothing.

Kneeling beside the stunned engineer, he gently rolled him onto his back. Zelenka had clearly had the worse trip of the two; his face was scraped and bruised, his glasses were missing, and there was a large knot on his forehead beneath a laceration that was puddling blood on the floor next to his head. However, the most worrisome injury was the man's left leg - it was bent at such an unnatural angle that there was little doubt that it was broken.

Sheppard's lips drew into a thin, grim line. That leg needed to be straightened and splinted, or he might lose it. The blood supply was certainly compromised at that angle and needed to be restored before permanent damage was done. No matter how you sliced it, though, it was going to be excruciating.

'_Best to do while he's mostly out.'_ Sheppard concluded.

Searching the nearby stacks of rubble rewarded him with a couple of straight metal rods that could be used as splints, as well as some thick wiring he could use to hold everything together. Materials gathered, he settled back down by the semi-conscious scientist and grasped his ankle. The man moaned slightly, but there was otherwise no response.

"Doctor Zelenka. Your leg is broken. I need to pull it straight." He didn't think that the insensible man could hear him, but he figured he'd better warn him, just in case.

"This is going to hurt." He didn't bother adding the doctor-cliché 'a little bit', because it wasn't true. This was going to hurt a lot.

Steeling his resolve, the Major braced the thigh so it wouldn't move, then sharply pulled the lower leg back into a straight line.

Zelenka let out a blood-curdling scream, eyes flying open, then his head lolled to the side completely unaware. _'Thank God he passed out.'_ The Major chuckled grimly to himself, remembering McKay's insistence on _that_ phrase instead of 'fainted'. Either way, Sheppard took advantage of his state and rapidly splinted the leg in position. Stripping off the boot, he checked the color of the foot and its pulses. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found both to be good and replaced the footwear, but only laced it up loosely due to the impending swelling which would certainly result. Next he grasped the scientist under the arms and dragged him over to the clear floor next to the oversized tables, where he wouldn't be jabbed by awkward metal corners poking into his back. Winded by his exertions, Sheppard collapsed on the floor next to him, opened his canteen, and settled down to wait.

---------------

"Lieutenant Ford, have you seen the Major?" Teyla had caught Aiden just as he was going off duty.

"No, have you tried his office?" He glanced down the hallway in that direction.

Teyla looked exasperated. "That is the first place that I searched when he did not keep our appointment." She must have seen the unspoken question in the young man's raised eyebrows, for she continued, "We were supposed to go to the range for target practice?"

Ford remembered Sheppard's insistence that all members of any off-world team have at least a passing familiarity with the military-issue weapons and how to use them to defend themselves. The Major had personally taken it upon himself to teach McKay and Teyla, but rapidly discovered that (for his own sanity) they needed separate instruction. Aiden nodded in understanding. "Let's check the mess hall; maybe he's in there."

----------------

"Oohhhhh...." The Czech began stirring an hour or so later, and Sheppard was quickly at his side. While the scientist had been unconscious, John had checked him over for other injuries, then had tried unsuccessfully to contact Control. Either both their radios had been broken in the fall, or radiowaves didn't penetrate this far into the bowels of the city. There was one corridor leading out of the chamber they found themselves in, but short forays down it revealed nothing that resembled a familiar landmark to the pilot. Disconcertingly, the power and lighting had been sporadic, much like the time the energy-sucking creature had been loose on base. As Sheppard reached out to help him sit up, the lights dimmed for the third time since they'd arrived.

Zelenka leaned forward, head in his hands, and cracked open an eye. "What?..." he asked, looking around the now-dim chamber.

"We took a fall," replied Sheppard by way of explanation. "How do you feel?" He kept his voice low, knowing that the scientist would have a heck of a headache from the size of the bump on his head.

The injured fellow dropped his hands and shrugged expressively. Dipping his head slightly to the right he replied, "I am all right." He shifted his position slightly and hissed in pain, "My leg, however, is not."

Sheppard looked on sympathetically. "Yeah, I know. 'Fraid it's broken."

Zelenka squinted nearsightedly at the makeshift splint. "And you have straightened it?"

"Yeah." Sheppard noticed his companion's visual difficulty. "Let me see if I can find your glasses. They must have come down that chute with us." As if on cue, the lighting brightened noticeably.

Arching an eyebrow, the pilot refrained from comment and started searching near where he had found Zelenka. A few moments of careful inspection produced a miraculously-intact pair of glasses, which John triumphantly placed on the engineer's nose.

"Thank you _very_ much." Zelenka gratefully adjusted the spectacles to fit his face once more. Brown eyes widened as he took in his surroundings for the first time in greater detail. "It is the...ummm...garbage dump," he finally commented.

Sheppard nodded but answered, "Or possibly a 'recycling center', but yes, I think we are sitting in a room full of stuff that the Ancients threw away."

He could literally see the waves of curiosity emanating from the engineer's immobile body. The man was clearly itching to get his hands on any of the junk in the immediate vicinity, if only his legs would take him there. Sheppard couldn't help grinning; just like Rodney, but polite!

Dragging out his canteen, the injured man uncapped it and held it towards the Major. "Would you care for some water?" he asked.

"No, I have some." He gestured to his own canteen on his hip. "But thanks for asking."

"Food, perhaps?"

Sheppard looked questioningly at him. "Do you have any? We were only supposed to be gone for four hours."

Zelenka shook his head as he began to produce an astonishing array of power bars and MRE leftovers from various pockets. "You do not spend four hours alone with Rodney McKay and not have food secreted about your person."

"I'm glad you didn't change your habits with your temporary change of partner." John selected a power bar and started cleaning the cut on the physicist's forehead.

------------

"McKay, have you seen Major Sheppard?" Ford and Teyla barged into the astrophysicist's lab just in time to upset the balance of an experiment that he'd been working at for over an hour one-handed. As it went clattering to the floor, Rodney shot them an angry glare.

"No I haven't, and I haven't seen that reprobate Zelenka yet, either! He was _supposed_ to be helping me here once he got done with today's mapping, but he must have decided that he had better things to do." In reality, McKay felt a little guilty that he'd stuck his friend with the job that neither of them cared for, and suspected that the man was avoiding him out of anger. Not that Zelenka tended to do things like that, but it was the only conclusion he could come to.

"Well, the Major was supposed to go..." Ford began, but was interrupted by Teyla.

"Are not you and Doctor Zelenka assigned to do mapping _together_?"

Rodney held up his bandaged hand. "Hello? Injured here?"

Now Ford was intrigued. "Then who was he going to do the mapping with? Weir requires two-person teams, minimum."

Rodney's voice dripped sarcasm. "As I have said before, who am I, 'Answer Man'? I have no idea. I told him to see Sheppard about assigning a new partner until I've recovered." He sighed dramatically and began to reassemble the device he'd been so tediously working on. "Now if you don't mind..." he gestured meaningfully towards the doorway.

Ford and Teyla turned to go. "Well, I doubt that the Major would have gone with the doc; I've heard him say that he'd rather watch paint dry than 'explore' another empty room."

"And he did have all those papers he had to do," added Teyla.

Ford stopped before he reached the door. "Papers?"

"Yes." Teyla stared at him sincerely. "'OERs' I think they are called."

A contemplative voice piped up from behind them. "Sheppard _hates_ filling out OERs." The two turned to meet the solemn eyes of Dr. McKay. "If it was a choice between doing paperwork or pacing out empty rooms, he'd take the empty rooms."

Ford nodded. "No question."

Teyla looked from one man to the other as they reached the same conclusion. Rodney put it in words. "Then wherever Sheppard is, Zelenka's there too."

TBC....

AN: OK, we've started with the Zelenka-whumping...


	4. Houston, We Have A Problem

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season!

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**4. "Houston, We Have A Problem"**

Zelenka winced as he shifted position. "Do you think that they are looking for us, Major?"

Sheppard wrinkled his nose and nodded with a certainty he didn't have. "I'm sure of it." He bent to check the injured man's splint in the currently-normal lighting.

"Ah, but will they find us?" Zelenka's eyes held a knowing gleam.

John grimaced. "I don't know. This is a section of the base that no one knows exists." Satisfied that the scientist's leg was still set straight, he leaned back against the table.

"Then we need to find a way out of here ourselves." The certainty in the nearsighted eyes was heartening.

Sheppard gestured to the splint. "But what about your leg? You're not _climbing_ out of here."

"The Ancients did not enter and exit via the garbage shaft. There must be a more logical path; we must find it." Zelenka stayed matter-of-fact.

"McKay is probably already figuring out what you were using your laptop for." Any trip out was going to be hard on the physicist, and Sheppard wanted to be sure they had covered all their options.

"Or no one has even noticed that we're missing. Or where we went. Our supplies will not last forever, so we must not depend on outside rescue."

Sheppard was unconvinced. "It may be quite a trek."

"I will manage."

The Major shook his head in amazement. "I'll give you one thing; you're sure not McKay. He'd be complaining to high heaven by now."

Zelenka smiled sadly. "Growing up in my country, I learned that it was best if one did not complain. My Uncle Yuri protested everything, and loudly; the schools were bad, there was not enough coffee, the lines for coal were too long...he did not care who heard him."

"What happened?"

The engineer stared thoughtfully at the Major. "One day I came home from school to find that he had 'disappeared'. Father told me that I had no 'Uncle Yuri' and I should never speak of him again." He adjusted his position as he prepared to stand. "I learned young that complaining was bad for one's health."

"Sounds brutal." John slipped a hand beneath his arm to help him up.

"Not really." The scientist shrugged. "Brutal would have been making us watch." Between the two of them they managed to get him upright, leaning up against the sorting table.

"Stay there; I'll find something to use as a crutch." Sheppard scrabbled among the piles of debris until he gave a shout of triumph and emerged brandishing a metal pole that might just fill the bill. A short time later they had gathered their belongings and headed off down the corridor. As they left the room, the Major reached over and snagged the red marker from Zelenka's pocket. Squatting on the floor, he drew a fat red arrow in the direction they were headed. He looked up at the crippled physicist and shrugged. "If they do follow us down, at least they'll know where we went."

"You know, I _could_ wait here while you go for help." Zelenka offered reluctantly.

A shadow crossed Sheppard's eyes. "No, I did that once. We go together, or not at all."

It was Zelenka's turn to shrug. "That is my preference as well. I felt obliged to offer."

Sheppard gestured towards the door. "So noted. Shall we?"

The engineer quirked a fleeting smile. "But of course."

------------------

"Here, on this door - it's Zelenka's mark." McKay gestured with his bandaged hand to the red scrawl placed there hours before. He palmed open the port to be met by a sleeping chamber. A brief search showed no sign of their friends, and they moved on.

"At least we know they got started on the mapping." Ford commented. The possibility of kidnapping had occurred to him, but he wisely kept such thoughts to himself. Teyla might think they were accusing the Athosians again, and McKay would be distracted by worry.

When they finally reached the trash sorting room, McKay whistled silently in appreciation. "I'm surprised Sheppard could drag Zelenka out of here," he commented as he took in the absence of their comrades.

"I do not believe that he did." Teyla pointed at the far wall, where Zelenka's laptop lay with wires still connected to the wall panel. Nearby, the scientist's backpack lay where it had fallen, contents spilling out onto the floor.

Rodney rushed over to the computer, and scrolled through its history. "It looks like he was trying to open a door of some sort. But I'm not sure where it is."

"See if you can figure it out, but don't trigger anything until I get back." Ford was at his most authoritative.

McKay glanced up from where he now sat cross-legged on the floor. "Where are you going?"

"It's time to let Weir know what's going on. Teyla, you stay here and watch things, just in case."

Teyla nodded, while Rodney looked confused. Shrugging it off as inconsequential, he went back to examining the laptop.

------------------

"Ma'am, I think we have a problem." Ford was always nervous when he addressed the base commander, although he tried not to show it.

"Yes, Lieutenant Ford?" Weir's head rose from where she was regarding the requisitions in front of her.

"Both Major Sheppard and Doctor Zelenka are missing."

Weir blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Dr. Zelenka and Major Sheppard were last seen just after lunch, heading out to map sectors R-54 to S-3. They haven't been heard from since." He shifted uncomfortably. "Teyla, McKay and I went to check out the area; we found this." He held up the satchel that Zelenka had dropped when the trapdoor had opened. "Doctor Zelenka's laptop is still in the room; it appears hooked up to something in the wall. Doctor McKay is working on it now."

Weir assimilated the information quickly, then stepped out into the control room. "Someone get Sergeant Bates up here, please." She kept her tone calm as the scenarios ran through her mind. A hostile infiltrating the base and kidnapping the first two people he came across was high on her list of possibilities, followed closely by some malfunction in the wall panel that caused the pair to either wander off amnesic, or, more likely, be transported elsewhere. As Ford and McKay were already working on the latter choices, she would get Bates on the first.

She stood and addressed the young man. "Lieutenant, I want you to get back to Dr. McKay and provide whatever help he needs. Be careful though; we might be dealing with a hostage scenario here, and I don't want you both taken as well. I'll have Bates work on that angle."

Ford nodded his understanding. "Yes, I thought of that. I made sure Teyla stayed with him, just in case."

"Alright then. Dismissed."

He turned and hurried out just as Bates came in.

"Sgt. Bates, we have a problem."

-------------------

The lights dimmed again, and Sheppard looked around suspiciously. Nothing presented itself as a threat, and they had seen no sign of any creatures of darkness. Still, it would be a good excuse to take a break. As they had slowly hobbled off down the only horizontally-oriented exit from the trash dump, Zelenka had become gradually more fatigued. At first talking and joking, he rapidly became quiet, saving his energy for walking. Now, however, he was clearly struggling for each step forward, advancing by pure will alone.

"Let's rest here a moment." Sheppard kept his voice deliberately light as he maneuvered the unprotesting scientist to where he could lean against the wall and slide down to a sitting position. The man let out a grateful sigh as he settled his leg out in front of him. The major examined his companion in concern. Zelenka's face had gone pale and pasty, with a fine sheen of sweat covering it. His breathing was shallow and fast, almost panting, and his eyes closed of their own volition in complete exhaustion. His lips appeared dried and cracked; Sheppard snagged his canteen and uncorked it, nudging the scientist to make him open his eyes.

Zelenka stared at him for a moment, then focussed on the water. Taking it with slightly-shaking hands, he managed a fleeting smile. "Thank you, Major. You are very kind." He took a long draught from the canteen, then handed it back.

"You sure you don't want more?" Sheppard was concerned; the scientist didn't look well.

Zelenka shook his head slightly, allowing his eyes to slide shut again. "No, but thank you," was the soft reply.

The lights flickered briefly, but settled again on 'dim'. Sheppard was immediately alert, but, as in all the previous instances, nothing threatening appeared. As he settled back down, he heard the slight Czech chuckle.

Figuring he could use a laugh too, Sheppard inquired curiously, "What's so funny?"

Zelenka reverted to his sad half-smile. "Do you believe in ghosts, Major?"

Sheppard recalled the episode shortly after their arrival; Teyla's people had ascribed the power fluctuations at that time to the presence of 'the Spirits of the Ancestors'. Clearly Rodney had given some credence to their opinion, because he flat-out fainted after a particularly well-time outage. Of course, that shadow was rather like a ghost, and what did you classify the Wraith if not 'vampires'?

"I suppose that depends on your definition..." was his careful reply.

Zelenka's eyebrows twitched in amusement. "I understand completely Major. However, I myself _do _believe in them." He paused for a moment to allow Sheppard to interrupt and, when he didn't, continued. "My native Prague has spires such as those in Atlantis. Great, gothic, towering points stretching up to catch the passing clouds. The angles in the architecture hold shadows that, when looked at out of the corner of your eye, move with a life that cannot be seen when stared at directly. It is a _city_ of ghosts, particularly in the night." Eyes still closed, the young scientist seemed to be in another place and time.

Sheppard tried to remain pragmatic. "Alright, I'll grant that it sounds spooky enough, but come on....ghosts?"

His companion chuckled again. "Prague is full of spirits. The first ghost I ever saw was that of a young nun killed by her father. I was only eight. She floated on the Charles Bridge, searching for her lover." He partially opened his eyes as he reminisced.

Sheppard looked at him skeptically, tactfully avoiding questions about a 'nun' with a 'lover'. "You must be joking..." he began.

Zelenka turned a bespeckled gaze on him. "I am quite serious. Spirits exist all around us; you just have to be willing to _see_ them." He paused, eyelids drooping. "When I was twelve I saw the 'Mangled Medium' prowling the street as I walked home from the house of a friend in the Mala Strana. In life he was a magician who sought to bargain with the devil for the love of a girl. When he tried to back out, Satan ripped his flesh, then condemned his immortal soul to wander in that form." He closed his eyes again and shuddered. "Others are not seen, but heard - rattling chains, horsehooves when there is no carriage...it was more common in the old days, before the wall fell in Berlin." He snickered and allowed his smile to widen. "Now, you would have to wade through a ton of American tourists to catch a glimpse of a phantom." He paused contemplatively. "They do not come out as they used to. Prague is not as melancholy as it once was."

Sheppard was floored, whether by the admission or by the fact that this was more than he'd heard from the quiet engineer in four months. Slowly he hazarded, "Wow. I guess that would color your...perception...of the occult all right." He carefully considered before continuing. "Have you seen any here on Atlantis?"

"No, but it would not surprise me. Atlantis is ancient, and echoes of ages past. At sunset, when the spires of the city are in half-light and the world is most surreal, I can sometimes make out the Charles Bridge on its western edge." He faded back into that sad half-smile again.

The Major shook himself and forcibly returned to the here and now. "Well, I suspect our power problems have a little more scientific explanation than 'the spirits of the ancestors'.'

"No doubt...you are...right." Zelenka mumbled as his head fell forward onto his chest, and he slept.

The pilot sat quietly for a few minutes until he was certain that the injured man was soundly asleep, then he silently stood. He would explore a little farther down the corridor before giving up for the night; if he could save them some time in the morning, it'd be worth it. He bent down to draw another red arrow on the floor.

TBC....

AN: To those of you waiting for the Sheppard-whumping; don't worry, it's coming in a few chapters. Right now we have to care for poor, persevering Zelenka!


	5. Elementary, My Dear Watson

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season!

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**5. Elementary, My Dear Watson**

"That's it!" McKay typed a command and held his hand palm upraised as he waited for the response. "It's a door control." He squinted in sudden concentration. "There's something funny..."

He typed a few more entries, cursing as he forgot himself and tried to use his injured hand. Soon the requested data was spilling onto his screen, and he was reading as fast as he was able. "It says...this was...a...trash sorting room?" He looked at Teyla in surprise just as Ford returned.

"What have you found..." Ford was interrupted by Rodney's upheld hand.

"This was one of several rooms..." he translated, "that broken be taken...for repair. If found to be irreparable...it was placed in the chute...to be sent to...the salvage room?" He looked up. "Oh, Corrigan's gonna love this...." Returning to his screen, "There the...Servant? Server? Slave?...will retrieve all that can be saved...and...rebirth...the rest."

Ford was confused. "Rebirth?"

Rodney jabbed at the screen defensively. "Don't look at me! It says so right here." Looking back, he continued, "The word I'm unsure of is the title of the person doing the salvage - it's clearly something specific, but it almost assumes that the reader knows who it represents." He shakes his head. "Weird..."

"We can figure it out later; do you know what happened to the Major and Dr. Zelenka?"

Rodney blinked at him in surprise. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Ford prompted, "Well?"

McKay grinned. "I thought you'd never ask." He stood and paced the floor. "If you notice, this chamber is several feet shorter than the corridor outside, indicating something in this wall." He gestured to the wall to which the laptop was attached. "A careful search would have revealed this hidden panel..."

"Why hidden?" asked Teyla, seconds before Ford could ask the same question.

McKay shot her a dirty look. "I don't know. Why do some people hide their trashcans in the cabinet under the sink? Maybe they didn't like looking at it." Shaking his head and ignoring her uncomprehending stare, he continued. "Anyway, Zelenka figures out that it opens a door, and sets up the laptop so that it can open that door." He paces to the wall and demonstrates the wire hookup.

"Now the Major is a cautious man, particularly where other people's safety is involved." Ford gave him a surprised glance; he couldn't believe that Rodney had actually noticed that about Sheppard. "He would have been suspicious of both the hidden door controls and doorway, and worried about boobytraps. He would have made them move as far away and to the side as possible before allowing Zelenka to trigger the hatch." He picked up the laptop and strode to a spot just a foot closer to the wall than the spot where they had discovered the scientist's backpack. "Right...about...here!"

McKay suddenly set down the computer, taking care not to dislodge its attachments, and began moving about on his hands and knees, carefully inspecting every inch of the deck in the immediate vicinity. Teyla and Ford watched him wide-eyed, then glanced at each other and gave identical shrugs.

"Ah-HA!" Ford and Teyla both jumped at the unexpected shout. Rodney scrambled to his feet, then, holding his arms outstretched, herded them both backwards a few steps. "Now, picture them standing there..." he pointed to the spot where he himself had stood just moments before, "to avoid exploding panels and the like..."

"But I thought you said that the panel was hidden for appearance?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, but _they_ don't know that. Anyway, they're standing there, Sheppard gives Zelenka the 'go ahead', Zelenka pushes these buttons..." McKay types in the command before Ford can stop him. "And _voila!_"

In the spot where Sheppard and Zelenka had presumably stood was a hole approximately five feet square. The backpack and laptop had been discovered just on its edge. The three inched up to it and peered down a black, curved ramp that disappeared in the direction of the 'trash chute' in the wall.

Gulping, Ford keyed his radio at his ear. "Doctor Weir? We're going to need men, rope, and flashlights."

---------------------

The Major kept opening doors in the hopes of finding an elevator that would transport them back to the inhabited sections of the city. So far, however, he had just managed to find storeroom upon storeroom of junk, some of it piled to the ceiling. Once a mound almost toppled over on top of him when he finally got the door to slide aside. He had decided to try one last room and turn around to check on Zelenka when his luck finally changed.

Unfortunately, it was not for the better.

The chamber he found himself in was massive and, in stark contrast to everything else he had found on this level, remarkably tidy. Yes, there were still partially-assembled devices, but they appeared to be in the process of _being_ assembled, rather than being broken down. Like the initial section they had landed in, this room had rows of oversized tables set at a shoulder-height or higher. The objects on the tables appeared less haphazard, as if someone ten to twelve feet tall had been working on them. Still, nothing moved. John wandered towards the far end, where a glowing tubular structure stood, surrounded by a ring of complex consoles, mostly dark. As he approached, he saw that it contained a vaguely humanoid shape, approximately the right height to stand at the tables.

As he passed the nearest control console, it suddenly sparked and flickered on, then off. Simultaneously, the lights flared briefly, then receded. Curious, Sheppard went to examine the board.

It took only a few minutes to determine that these control units managed more than the environment in the room; the one that was partially shorted out clearly maintained the illumination levels throughout this entire section of the base and was the cause of the lighting changes they'd been experiencing. "So much for ghost stories," he chuckled to himself, feeling foolish for half-considering the possibility. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, he left the panel alone until someone more knowledgeable could address it. Instead, he turned to inspect the receptacle and contents behind him.

The container itself appeared to be powered at a low level, but had clearly seen better days. The outer glass was cracked, and in one spot completely missing. The entire front canted on broken hinges. Sheppard carefully moved it aside to get a better view of the contents. The object inside was clearly artificial in origin, and like the housing, worse for the wear. It appeared to be a combination of robot and softer materials to make it seem more lifelike; some sort of android, he concluded. It was androgynous, neither male nor female, and its synthetic skin was interspersed with odd wires and metal fragments protruding from unexpected angles. He felt compelled to reach out and touch the 'skin', and gently ran his hand along an arm. He was vaguely repulsed by its cold, clammy texture and pulled his hand back rapidly. An ornate design graced its forehead, some sort of Ancient writing that he couldn't quite make out, but it was otherwise without markings. The design looked different than the rest of the mechanoid, and he found himself compelled to touch that as well. Rather than repugnant, it actually felt _warm_ to his fingertips, and he traced the pattern lightly before withdrawing his hand. As he stared at it, trying to decipher what was inscribed, he failed to notice the lights suddenly coming on in the consoles behind his back.

"Oh, Zelenka will love this!" Sheppard muttered, quirking the corner of his mouth. He resolved to show it to the scientist first thing in the morning when they began to travel again. However, as he headed for the hallway he caught sight of a small attached cubicle out of the corner of his eye.

"Did I just see...?" He took a quick detour, then grinned when his hunch played out. "Yes!" A couple of human-sized cots with some ten-thousand year old blankets were in the space, as well as a few other amenities such as running water. It must been used by the scientists who had originally worked in this lab; perhaps someone had to be 'on call' whenever the robot was at functioning, in case of problems.As he turned to go to Zelenka, he marveled at the bedding's existence. _'If we ever go back to Earth, I'm getting the patent on the material these blankets are made from...'_

Forget the morning; his companion's broken leg would rest much better on a bed, covered with blankets. Deciding to wake the scientist immediately and move him to the improved quarters, Sheppard was out the door and headed back down the hall so quickly that he didn't see the android's eyes snap open.

TBC....


	6. Good Night, Sleep Tight

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season!

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**6. Good Night, Sleep Tight**

Zelenka was pretty much where Sheppard had left him, slumped against the wall, sound asleep. In his slumbers he had tilted to one side so that his head hung at an awkward angle. It made the Major wince in sympathy; his neck and back were going to _hurt_. The scientist's glasses had managed to slide down to the end of his nose and perch there. His mouth hung open slightly, allowing the sound of soft snoring to emerge.

Kneeling beside the exhausted engineer, the Major gently shook his shoulder. "Hey, Zelenka." He kept his voice soft, so as not to startle him. "Come on; I've found us a better place to crash for the night." Eventually the Czech moaned, his eyes fluttering open, and stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"What?" He was less than completely with the program. "Where?"

Sheppard flashed him a grin. "Come on; I've found a room with actual beds in it for a change. You'll rest better there."

Zelenka nodded sleepily, then, with the Major's help, managed to clamber to his feet. Sheppard on one side, crutch on the other, they set off towards the laboratory, pausing only for John to draw more of his ubiquitous arrows from time to time along the way.

----------------

"What do you see down there?" hollered Ford at Markham, who had repelled partway down the main shaft. It had taken a couple of hours to get the men and gear together to stage a rescue operation, but with Weir's help they had finally accomplished it. After wedging the trapdoor open, they began investigating the chute their two friends had fallen down. They rapidly discovered that radiowaves didn't penetrate the material that made up the walls, presumably to keep 'thrown away' devices from accidentally activating on the way down to wherever they were headed, so the search team had to resort to shouting its reports. However, that discovery was definitely a relief; otherwise, the lack of radio contact from their two 'lost lambs' took on a more ominous interpretation.

"The first few yards slope down to a larger shaft about four feet in diameter that drops straight down. The sides of the tunnels are cool and smooth - too slick to get any purchase on. They had no choice but to just keep falling." Markham pulled his hand away from the Teflon-textured wall nearest him and shown his flashlight down the shaft. "I can't see the bottom yet; give me some more rope!"

Obligingly, the rope team began letting out some slack, until they barely heard him call up, "OK, it's sloping out again. Better send Stackhouse halfway to relay messages!"

Sgt. Stackhouse, already harnessed up and ready to go, went over the edge at Ford's signal. Moments later he shouted, "OK, I'm in position!"

Cupping a hand to the side of his mouth, Ford replied, "Tell Markham to head on down!"

A few minutes more and Markham's rope went slack. "He's at the bottom!" came the call from Stackhouse. "He says it's safe to lower down the rescue team!"

"All right, we'll get you down the rest of the way, then Teyla and I will be right behind." Ford nodded to the rope handlers, who gradually let out Stackhouse's line the same distance as Markham's. Teyla followed suit moments later. Once her line went slack as well, Ford prepared to go over. He fixed a steel gaze on the head of the rope team, "If these lines jerk once, that means 'pull us up'; twice means send down stretchers; three times and you send Beckett and the medical team. Got it?" After receiving nods of understanding all around, he went over the edge.

Beckett and Weir, standing on the sidelines of the activity, settled on the floor to wait. McKay paced for a few minutes, fiddling absently with his bandage, until he finally gave up and sat next to them.

----------------------

By the time Sheppard and Zelenka reached the sleeping cubicle, the Major was almost carrying the smaller man. Zelenka managed the last several yards with a grim single-minded determination that Sheppard had to admire; he was so intent on putting one foot in front of the other that he didn't even notice the nature of the larger room they passed through to reach the cots. The pilot smiled to himself - wait until Zelenka saw the robot! Still, it would wait until morning.

A tremor of fatigue passed through his injured comrade as he settled him on the nearest bunk. "Thank you for helping me Major." The Czech was perpetually polite.

Sheppard grinned at him as he covered him with a blanket. "Hey, no problem. You just get a good night's sleep. I'll bet a rescue party is on it's way now."

"I am hoping you are right." The engineer's eyes closed as he fell again to snoring.

Sheppard straightened and looked suspiciously at the entrance to the larger lab. He had only been peripherally aware of the chamber as they passed through it, but something seemed...off. Now that his charge was safely tucked in, he meant to find out what.

Slipping silently out of the smaller room, he closed the door behind him to minimize his chances of disturbing the weary scientist and began prowling the lab trying to pinpoint what was _different_. He scrubbed a hand across tired eyes; it must be after 3 AM. Glancing around the room, he shook his head. Everything seemed in order. Maybe he'd better get some sleep as well.

He took a look down at the end of the room containing the android's chamber and frowned. _'Wait a second...'_ He found himself suddenly quite alert. _'Where's the robot got to?'_ Instantly on guard, he drew his weapon and stealthily moved toward the receptacle he had examined earlier. He noted the lighted consoles that had previously been dark, then moved to the container itself. Its casing was completely detached from the front, and lay on the ground to the side. He reached inside, touching the pad upon which the machine had laid, then turned in a full circle inspecting the room. _'Nothing.'_ He lowered his weapon and walked up to one of the control consoles, investigating possible scenarios. He was so engrossed in the panel before him that he didn't notice the movement from behind the container until it was almost too late. As the massive arm came down, he caught the movement from the corner of his eye and dodged to his left, trying to bring his weapon to bear.

Looming over him was one huge, _angry_ android.

TBC....

AN: Yes! Another Cliffie! (Insert commercial here - LOL)

Boy, you Sheppard-whumpers are gonna like the next chapter!!!!


	7. If This Be Madness

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season!

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**7. If This Be Madness...**

"You did not return!" the robot howled. "You promised to return!!!" A massive fist struck the ground beside Sheppard's head as he rolled deftly out range, M-90 skittering across the floor. The design he'd noticed earlier in the center of the android's forehead now glowed a brilliant orange.

"Look, I don't know who you think I am, but I've never met you before in my life." He ducked a roundhouse that flew over his head.

"Your _people_!" it screamed in clarification, still swinging wildly. "Abandoned! Alone!!!" Each word was punctuated by a blow, coming faster and faster. The floor and random mechanical devices were taking the brunt of the pounding, but Sheppard knew it was only a matter of time before one would connect. His eyes darted about until he located his weapon. "My Creators...YOU...gave me a purpose! I was made to serve."

"Hey, can we talk about this? I'm OK with being served." He winced. That hadn't really come out right. If this kept up he _would_ be served - on a platter.

Sheppard had already had a trying day and fatigue clouded his reflexes, slowing his response time. He actually felt the breeze from the last strike brush past his cheek. Backing away towards the M-90, he tried to distance himself from the raving creature.

"You left. You all left me alone." _'All right, this was getting repetitive...'_

The being had begun to lash out with its legs as well, giving the Major four limbs to keep track of and dodge, while at the same time moving towards his objective. "My function is to repair and renew. Without _you_, there is no function!" Sheppard's luck finally ran out as he tripped over some metallic fragments that had been ripped from the nearest control panel and plummeted backwards. He scrambled away crab-like as the monster continued its rant.

"I slept. Once every hundred years I awoke to see if you had returned as promised. I awoke to darkness!" The floor was being dented by the impact of the android's fury and bits of machinery flew in all directions. Sheppard finally regained his feet, but was having to duck the detritus.

"No purpose! Alone!!" At last a punch scraped his shoulder, and Sheppard's world exploded into a nebula of pain. He blinked, disoriented, but managed to twist away before the next one could connect fully. A jagged edge of metal caught his thigh, ripping both cloth and flesh, but he ignored it in his need to escape. He was likewise oblivious to the small rivulet of blood that began trailing towards the floor as he rolled away once again.

Panting, Sheppard at last managed to put some distance between himself and the creature and retrieved his weapon. "All right....if that's the way...you want it!" Bringing his weapon up, he fired point blank into the android's chest.

Unfortunately, the bullets had no effect on the rampaging mechanoid, and the glowing orange design on its forehead began to pulse. "You people went away! You abandoned me!" it roared. It finally managed to get grip on the hapless human and sling him across the room into a console, which exploded in a shower of sparks. John's momentum kept him moving across the machine's top, falling into a semiconscious heap on the far side. Groaning, he was only peripherally aware of the iron-clad grasp that picked him up like a rag doll to bash him into another piece of equipment. "_ALONE!!!_" it screamed. There was only one conclusion John could reach while he could still reason at all; the robot was completely, utterly mad.

As the beating continued in macabre time to the android's rant, Sheppard became aware of another voice shouting as well. Concentrating on this alternate input, John's pain-fogged mind finally recognized the voice of the Czech physicist. _'Zelenka?'_ he marveled.

"Zelenka!" _'He has to leave before the robot notices him, too.'_ "Go! Get out!"

All thought was temporarily vanquished by another explosion of pain. As the sharp spikes receded somewhat, he heard Zelenka still shouting in the distance. _'The fool! Why is he still here?'_ John was incredulous. _'Wait...what is he saying?'_

Zelenka had been roused by the crashing and pounding as the outer chamber was demolished. Struggling off of his cot, he grabbed his makeshift crutch and hobbled to the door. The sight that met his astonished eyes was one from his worst nightmares. A huge artificial creature was beating the crap out of Major Sheppard. He pushed messy brown hair out of his eyes, adjusting his glasses in the process. Yes, it seemed to be a ten or twelve foot tall robot, and it was quite...unhappy. The most striking feature was the glowing orange pattern on its forehead. _'Wait a moment...'_ He readjusted his glasses once again. _'Is that Ancient writing?'_

He squinted to get a better view of the radiant letters. _'Aleph...kah...dorse...fay...That's Ancient for 'Life'!'_ His eyes widened. _'No...it couldn't be...'_ Still, so many stories and legends were found to be real...He watched in dismay as Sheppard retrieved his gun and unloaded a clip into the Creature's chest with no effect. _'Anything's worth a try...'_

He watched aghast as the artificial being flung the pilot across the room. "Major! It's forehead! Rub the Aleph!" Sheppard appeared not to hear him, and shouted for Zelenka to leave. Shaking his head he repeated, "Major! Touch its forehead. The _left_ part of the design!!!!"

At last he seemed to get through to the battered, semiconscious man. As the raving android picked up his now only weakly-struggling body, Sheppard concentrated with all his might, raising a trembling finger to the glowing symbols. Shifting his gaze as the robot tightened its grip, he touched the Ancient letter furthest to the left and pressed. As if flipping a switch, the mark winked out, leaving only the remaining three alight. The automaton's eyes widened briefly, then closed, as its whole form went immobile. Uncomprehending, Sheppard stared for a moment, then gave in to the darkness crowding his vision and knew no more.

Zelenka's jaw hung slack. He had just seen a reenactment of Rabbi Loew's story in a burnt out basement lab in another _galaxy_ from his Prague home. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, then grabbed his crutch and hobbled over to the immobile pair. He prayed that Sheppard had fared better than his predecessor of legend.

Frighteningly, the Major hung limp and motionless in the petrified hands of the robot. His left eye was almost swollen shut and his face was a mass of abrasions and contusions. His right arm hung at an angle that announced 'I'm dislocated' to the universe, and his breath came in shallow pants. Blood dripped rhythmically onto the floor from the toe of his left boot; Zelenka's eyes followed the rivulet up to where it originated at a large gash on the Major's thigh. His whole body was covered in the sweat that also soaked the front of his uniform.

The slight scientist leaned his crutch against the nearest console, then balanced on his good leg as he worked at freeing the Major. When he finally found the release mechanism in the android's wrist, he was unprepared for the sudden weight and, unable to maintain his balance, tumbled to the ground with Sheppard in tow. Agony blossomed up from his fractured leg, forcing him to pause a moment to quell the nausea it engendered. It took a few minutes until he was able to move without fainting, then the Czech attempted to assess the pilot's injuries.

"Concussion certainly, dislocated shoulder, thigh laceration that's going to need stitches, several broken ribs..." he muttered to himself. He placed an ear against first Sheppard's right chest, then the left. "I don't think he's dropped a lung." He glanced longingly back at their sleep cubicle. _'There's no way I can drag him back there with my leg like this, but he'd be better off in a bed."_

Steeling his resolve, Zelenka pivoted himself into a standing position again, then retrieved his crutch. It took several trips, but he eventually had all their gear, the blankets, and a container of fresh water on the flooring next to the comatose man. Carefully cleaning the wounds, he found that none were life-threatening, although several would probably require sutures. He managed an adequate pressure-dressing on the Major's thigh, then tried unsuccessfully to pull his shoulder back into its socket. Unfortunately, he couldn't get the proper leverage due to his own injury and finally settled for fabricating a sling to immobilize it. At length he was satisfied with his first aid attempts, and sat back with a sigh. Leaning against the table, he carefully stretched out his own leg and decided to 'rest his eyes' for a minute. He would worry about how they would get to the infirmary tomorrow.

TBC....

AN: So, how was _that_? I must admit that _I_ feel better with it out of my system...


	8. The Rescue Party

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season!

Ghosts of Prague 

By Kerr Avon

**8. The Rescue Party**

"Wow, would you look at all this!" Ford let out a low whistle as he examined the lower chamber. "Can you imagine what the scientists are going to do when they get hold of this place?"

Stackhouse raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised Sheppard managed to drag Zelenka away."

"Where are they, anyway, sir? Shouldn't they be in the immediate vicinity?" Markham kept his weapon up and ready.

"You'd think so, but possibly they tried to get out on their own." Ford carefully assessed the room. "The only obvious exit is over there." He pointed at the exit the Major had taken with his injured charge.

Teyla noticed something on the ground as they passed one of the oversized tables. "Look! There is a mark on the floor."

Aiden knelt next to the red arrow pointing in the direction they were headed. "That's the same marker Zelenka was using upstairs."

"Well at least we know they weren't taken against their will; no kidnapper would give them time to mark which way they went." Markham was practical.

Ford wasn't wholly convinced. "Let's keep our weapons ready, just in case." He jerked his head towards the door. "OK, let's move out."

It wasn't difficult following their trail; at every juncture or intersection, a red arrow clearly pointed the direction taken by the missing men. A final arrow indicated the door to a room. "Perhaps they stopped for the night," suggested Teyla hopefully.

Ford mentally assessed the distance traveled. "If so, then one of them is hurt. They're moving awfully slow." Quietly opening the door, he inspected the room before gesturing for the rest of the team to follow him.

The room was a disaster, with ripped up machines and metal fragments littering the floor. Oversized tables, both upright and overturned, were strewn about as well. At the far end of the chamber the damage seemed to increase exponentially, culminating in the frozen figure of an oversized robot. They rounded the last bank of machines and approached it with awe.

Teyla, however, was more observant. While the soldiers' eyes had been riveted on the form of the lifeless android, she had been visually watching for signs that their men had been here. As they came around the console, she looked back behind its corner, only to see the two men in question. Her eyes widened in shock. "Lieutenant! They are here!" Forgetting the rest of the room existed, she rushed to Major Sheppard's side.

"Doctor! Major!" Ford and the others rushed over as well. Aiden was aghast. Dr. Zelenka sat on the floor, back against the side of the console, head tilted to the right. His leg was stretched out before him and incased in a makeshift splint, while a rod that could be used as a crutch or cane was clutched tightly in his hands. His eyes were closed, but his mouth hung open; he had clearly fallen asleep.

Sheppard lay stretched out supine on the floor, tightly bundled in blankets to help prevent shock. His head was pillowed on Zelenka's rolled-up science jacket, and what little could be seen of him was truly gut-wrenching. His face was scraped and bruised, one eye was swollen shut, and his hair was matted with blood. It didn't take a rocket scientist, _'and God knows we've got enough of them',_ to tell that these men weren't getting out under their own power. Turning to Stackhouse, Ford ordered, "Go back to the ropes and signal for Beckett and the medical team. Three jerks on the rope, got it?"

Stackhouse pulled his eyes away from his battered commander. "Yes, sir. Right away!" Jumping up, he hurried out of the room.

Teyla began gently unwrapping the Major while Markham crouched nearby. Ford turned his attention to the Doctor, in the hopes of getting some answers. He reached out and gently shook his shoulder. "Doctor? Doctor Zelenka?"

The Czech woke with a start and focussed wide eyes blearily on Ford. "Lieutenant! Thank goodness you're here." He struggled to direct the young man's attention to Sheppard. "The Major is badly injured; his arm, his thigh, some ribs..."

Teyla looked up from the unconscious man as Aiden tried to calm the scientist. "He is right. Major Sheppard is gravely ill."

Ford kept his attention on the slight doctor. "It's OK, It's OK, just settle down. We've sent for stretchers, Beckett, and a medical team. They should be here any minute." Once he got him to settle down, he continued, "Now, what happened? How did you, with your broken leg, manage to haul the Major all this way?"

Zelenka shook his head in denial. "No, no, no. You have got it wrong. Major Sheppard helped me to get this far. He received his injuries in this room, not in the fall."

Aiden was instantly on the alert, as was Markham. Both drew their weapons in response to the physicist's words and warily surveyed the room. "So, who did this to him? Are they likely to come back?"

Zelenka would have laughed, except he considered the possibility of accidentally being shot very real. "No, no, NO! You are not understanding me. The damage was done by that...thing." He gesticulated towards the still-frozen automaton.

Ford stood to examine it. Drawn as Sheppard had been to the design on its forehead, he reached out a finger...

"NO!!! Do not touch that word. You will reactivate it!" Zelenka was uncharacteristically forceful in his fear. Ford jerked his hand back as if it had been burned. However, any further questions he might have had were forestalled by Beckett's arrival.

The physician's eyes bugged slightly as he caught sight of his two patients. Involuntarily he exclaimed, "Holy crap, what happened to you?"

Zelenka smiled in irony. "The fall happened to me...that robot happened to Major Sheppard."

Beckett shook his head, clucking his tongue, and knelt to get to work. While some of the medics loaded Zelenka onto a stretcher and strapped him in, Carson turned all his attention to Sheppard. He had remained unconscious throughout the entire 'rescue' so far, and his face had a waxy pallor that Beckett didn't like. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his pulse fast and his blood pressure low. He rapidly reached the same conclusions as Zelenka had earlier, plus a few more for completeness' sake. Concussion, hypotension, probable rib fractures without pneumothorax, shoulder dislocation, lacerations (one severe), contusions, unknown intraabdominal injuries, and shock. All Beckett could really do here was start an IV and get moving as quickly as possible.

TBC....

AN: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews so far; sorry about the delay in posting - real life got in the way!


	9. The Golem

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is in no way, shape, or form mine, nor do I make any profit from the following story. It is a work of fan fiction necessitated by the three-plus month hiatus between the first 10 episodes and the remainder of the first season!

**Ghosts of Prague**

By Kerr Avon

**The Golem**

"All right, Major, follow my finger." Carson held up the index finger on his right hand and moved it first side-to-side, then up and down. Sheppard's eyes dutifully followed despite the stabbing pain shooting through his skull. He had started waking up at the worst possible moment - about halfway up the vertical shaft. Fortunately, knowing the Major's affinity with Murphy's Law, Beckett had used triple the normal number of straps to secure him to the stretcher, and had arranged for Ford to ascend the shaft alongside him. Still, by the time he was hauled through the trapdoor, he was half out of his restraints in his confusion and panic. Both he and Zelenka were transported rapidly to the infirmary, where they remained overnight under Carson's watchful eye.

Beckett pulled a penlight out of his pocket. "All right, look straight ahead." He flashed the light into the left pupil and away, then repeated the procedure on the right, grunting in satisfaction. "Well, no permanent harm done. Be grateful you have a hard head; that robot could have done a lot more damage." Carson pursed his lips unhappily. "As it is, you're going to be our guest for a few days at least."

Sheppard shot him his 'Oh, pshaw, I'm fine' look, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. "Come on, doc, I'll rest better in my own quarters."

"I have tried to explain that to him already," piped up Zelenka's voice from the next bed. Dropping his tone, he grumbled, "Particularly after last night."

Beckett glared at them both disapprovingly. "You both experienced significant head trauma with a witnessed loss of consciousness for more than three minutes. Believe me when I tell you that _rest _was not really in the agenda; you both had to be awakened every two hours to check your mental status for deterioration."

"But McKay is having all the fun!" Zelenka blurted, dismayed. By the time I get out of here, he will have completed an analysis of _everything_."

"Don't worry, there's plenty of 'fun' to be had," came a pained sigh from the doorway. The three turned to see Rodney standing there, holding his previously 'good' hand out in front of himself.

Beckett rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you've burned your _other_ hand?" He gently pried open the clenched fist. "Oh, Bloody Hell! Rodney, what did I tell you about using _tools_ instead of your fingers to make electrical connections?" He grabbed him by the elbow and escorted him to a chair. "Sit here and _don't move_. I'll go get my supplies." Shaking his head in disgust, Beckett left the room.

Sheppard couldn't resist. "So, Rodney, what'd you do to yourself?"

McKay shot him a disgusted look and sarcastically replied, "I didn't _'do this to myself'_; All I did was pick up a piece of equipment on the table in the upper room..."

"That held a charge after ten thousand years?" Zelenka raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Hey, the lights came on when we first arrived!" responded McKay indignantly.

"Yes, but they were hooked up to the base power source." Even Sheppard was dubious now.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right. I hooked it up to the base power before I got burnt; happy? How was I supposed to know that it would get so hot?"

Beckett had returned with a basin, saline, and a debridement kit. "I though that we agreed you weren't going to do that anymore."

"Hey, I don't remember any 'agreement'. I remember you trying to tell me my job..."

"And I was right, too." Beckett interrupted, raising his eyebrow.

Rodney had the grace to back down at that point. "Yes," he mumbled under his breath.

"Wha' was that? I dinna think I heard you." Carson was truly enjoying himself as he finished setting out his equipment and lay McKay's hand on a treatment stand, palm up.

"You were right, all right? Owww! Take it easy!" Beckett had begun to debride the worst of the burn. To take his mind off his hand, McKay turned to Zelenka.

"You were right about how the robot is activated, by the way. Apparently, tracing the pattern on the thing's forehead activates it, while touching just the far left portion turns it off." Rodney was truly curious at this point. "How did you know?" He looked at his hand in sudden pain. "Ow, careful!"

The Czech shrugged. "It was an educated guess."

Sheppard creased his eyebrows, confused. "Educated in what?"

Zelenka's eyes lost their focus as he stared at something far away. "So _many_ of the things we've encountered since finding the Stargate are related to Earth legends...and I had been thinking about the stories of my youth..."

Rodney was impatient. "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

Sheppard shot him a warning glance; he was interested in the engineer's story. Beckett, applying the bandage to McKay's new injury, pressed slightly harder than necessary as well. "Hey, be careful there!" was Rodney's response, forgetting his earlier impatience.

Zelenka grinned widely, and continued with his narrative. "My childhood was steeped in the legends of my city, many of which are somewhat...macabre. One of these tales concerned Rabbi Loew and his creation. The rabbi lived in a time of great unrest; the people of the Jewish quarter were worked almost to the point of slavery, and there were frequent raids by the nearby Christian community that resulted in violence and death. He prayed every night for a way to protect his people and help them with their work.

"One night, his prayers were answered. God told him how to make a Golem. The next morning he went to the river and made the man-like creature out of clay per the instructions in his dream. The last thing he did was to carve the word 'Emet', meaning 'justice' into its forehead, bringing it to life. Each day he placed a paper in its mouth with instructions for the day's tasks: 'Wash everyone's windows', 'Cook everyone supper', 'Weed everyone's gardens', and so on. At night, the Golem had just one task; patrol the streets and keep the rabbi's people from harm at the hands of others.

"This worked quite well, at first. The people were safe and happy. The creature, however, was not. Rabbi Loew had made him too lifelike. The Golem became jealous of the people he served; he could never laugh, or play, or sleep. He became increasingly violent, and ultimately insane. The rabbi had to stop the Golem before it hurt someone, so he approached it carefully. The Golem knew his intention however, and a battle ensued in which the rabbi was gravely injured. As his creation was squeezing the life out of him, he reached up to its forehead and erased the 'E', leaving only 'Met' inscribed. 'Met' means 'death', and so the Golem died. Unfortunately, so did Rabbi Loew, of his injuries.

"When I saw the Ancient word for 'life' on the android's forehead, I took a wild guess; after all, if you erase the first letter..."

McKay's eyes widened. "It's the Ancient word for 'death'."

"Major Sheppard couldn't stand much more anyway, so what did he have to lose? I told him to press that letter, and it worked." Zelenka concluded in his own self-effacing way.

Sheppard snorted. "Hey, I for one am glad it did." Heartfelt, he added, "Thank you."

Zelenka inclined his head. "You are welcome." He leaned back and closed his eyes as Rodney began to complain about _both_ hands being bandaged. Smiling to himself, he reflected that _most_ legends have their basis in truth. He had once met a man whose favorite saying was "The truth is out there". In this case it was. _Way_ 'out there'.

AN: Congratulations to everyone who recognized the Golem story in earlier chapters; it really did originate in Prague. The details vary, but it's mostly like what Zelenka describes. Also, thanks for all the wonderful reviews; sorry I didn't do more injury, but I think that's enough for _one_ story. I'm considering another Beckett-whumping...opinions? Or do you have a different preference? Let me know!


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